Passing the Torch
by 4luv4evr428
Summary: "Little" Ricky picks up where his father left off. The first of many stories about the Ricardos' adult son.


Book 3

Chapter 1

It was a bright, warm July day. The sounds of disco-style dance music seemed to emit from each passing car and every open storefront. A young man of 22 years walked up the block. He had a confident stride which felt a bit heavy this day. He felt the heat of summer as the sun beat down on his raven black hair and tanned skin. Passing through an unshaded stretch of the street, he shielded his dark brown eyes with his hand.

He had taken the train from Connecticut this morning with his mother. She had gone to visit with her friend, Marian, while he visited some old school friends. But they had come to New York for business and were going to reunite at their destination. He glanced at his watch. Two thirty. She would be there already.

The young man quickened his pace as Club Babalu came into view. It had been closed for three weeks. Now it would be left in the young man's hands and he hadn't quite decided what to do.

When he reached the building, the door was propped open as if to allow fresh air to enter. His mother must be here. Inside, only some dim lights shone on brightly colored décor, muted by the darkness.

"Mom?" The young man called out. A man in a dark suit came into view from doorway at the side of the dance floor. "She took a walk up to the roof, Rick. How are you?" The man extended his hand.

Rick reached out and shook the man's hand, suddenly self- conscious that he was wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt rather than a suit, as perhaps the occasion called for. "I'm ok, Mr. Bennett."

"Please, Rick, you can call me Arnie. I've been your father's lawyer for years, I feel like I've watched you grow up."

Rick nodded and watched as Arnie took some papers out of a briefcase that had been sitting on one of the tables. Arnie hesitated. "I think maybe it's better for your mother to not be present at the moment. She seems a bit fragile, understandably." Rick looked up at the ceiling, as though he could see her on the roof. "Yeah, you're probably right. It's been a difficult three weeks."

"Have a seat." Arnie motioned to a chair on one side of the table, as he sat at the other. "Rick, as you're aware, your mother has ownership of the house in Connecticut and a substantial amount of savings that your father left specifically for her to live and be cared for. But his will has given you ownership of a separate account and this club."

Arnie continued in a lengthy description of the will, his legal rights….and on and on. Rick's mind trailed. He had been very close to his father. His death from cancer had been a crushing blow to him, and his mother was equally devastated, if not more so. His memory took him back to his childhood; how proud his father had been when he learned to play the drums; how he had performed with him here on this stage; how he had looked at his son with a full heart when they performed Babalu together in Cuba. Rick was a talented performer in his own right. As he grew through his teenage years, he sang and was an excellent drummer, and acquired his own fame. Now he stood at a cross-roads. What would he do with his life, with this club? Rick had not been sent to Vietnam, much to his parents' great relief, because he had joined the Army Reserves after high school. Now that the conflict had ended, he had a future to look to. Whatever he did, he knew he needed to stay near his mother. He was all she had. Aunt Ethel was back home, but she was not a replacement for Dad. No one could be.

"So once you sign this, I'll be able to have the deed to this property changed into your name, and the trust that your father set up for you will be transferred to you, as well." Arnie pointed to two signature lines and offered Rick the pen.

Rick took the pen in his hand with a heavy heart and signed his name to the two lines: Enrique Alberto Ricardo, Jr.

Chapter 2

Lucy looked out over the city, hearing the music and the bustle from the streets below. She couldn't understand how it was that the world kept moving, yet she seemed to be standing still. She felt as though she were moving in slow motion ever since the day three weeks ago, when she sat cradling Ricky in her arms while he passed away. She had kissed his lips gently after that moment, and for the first time in their entire lives together, she felt no warmth, sweetness or passion; he was gone.

"Mom…"

Lucy turned, her red hair catching a summer breeze, her blue eyes dull against her dark grey skirt suit. She smiled at her son, so handsome and striking. She looked at his strong face and deep brown eyes, and she knew his father was alive in him.

"I signed the papers. Arnie's downstairs if you want to say goodbye…" Rick looked at the large envelope in his hand, containing his copies of the documents.

Lucy nodded. "Yes. He's been very good to help us with all of this." Rick put his arm on his mother's shoulder and guided her toward the stairs. She couldn't help but to remember the night she first met Ricky, and descended from the roof, hoping beyond all hope that he would come to the address she had written on that scrap of paper. He had, the very next day. From then on, whenever she went down those stairs, he followed her. Not today.

Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting within the club from the bright daylight on the roof. Arnie was standing near a table, shuffling papers in his briefcase. He looked up and smiled. "Lucy, I think my business with Rick is finished. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, Arnie, but I want to thank you for all you've done." Lucy extended her hand and Arnie grasped it warmly. "Anytime."

Arnie gathered his briefcase and waved to Lucy and Rick as he headed out of the club. At his departure, there was silence. This environment was not accustomed to silence. Lucy remembered her husband, singing and beating that drum, and she began to cry.

Rick turned to his mother and embraced her. She wept into his shoulder and, for her sake, he fiercely suppressed his own tears.

Chapter 3

The next morning, Rick stirred in bed, groggy and not yet awake. His ears picked up the sounds of birds outside his open window. The Connecticut countryside was otherwise quiet. He had spent a restless night, between fitful sleep and periods of deep thought. With squinted eyes, he turned and looked at the clock on the nightstand. 8:45. Morning sun was streaming through the shades, and as he became more fully awake, he smelled the aroma of bacon wafting up from the kitchen downstairs.

"Ricky…?" Lucy's voice called up to her son. He smiled a little. His parents had called him "Little Ricky" for as long as he could remember; when he grew as tall as his father, they promptly dropped "little" from his nickname. But his friends and most other people had taken to calling him Rick. With his father's death, now only his mother would remain to call him "Ricky". His smile faded with that thought.

"I'll be right there, Mom!" Rick rose from bed, put on his robe, ran his hand through his hair and made his way downstairs.

Downstairs, the table was set for two and fresh tulips from Lucy's garden adorned the center. She emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of eggs, bacon and toast. "Sit down, dear."

Rick gave his mother a kiss on her cheek. "Where's Aunt Ethel?"

"Oh, she had to go into town this morning." Lucy sat at the table and Rick sat across from her.

"Mom?" Rick moved the vase of tulips so he could see his mother clearly. Lucy looked at him warmly, and in her way, she anticipated what her son had to tell her.

"I've made a decision, Mom."

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm going to move back to New York. I think there's more for me there…and I'm going to reopen Dad's club."

Lucy looked at her breakfast, then back at Rick.

"You're going to run it, then?"

"Well, yes, but I'm going to make it my own. I'll do a little redecorating, hire some new talent, perform there myself…I think Dad would want it. That's why he left it to me."

Lucy nodded slowly. "Yes."

"That, and….I can't live here forever, Mom. I have to get out and start my life. The way you and Dad did at my age."

"Yes." Lucy knew it had to be this way. It was the only way. She had to be strong and encourage him.

"But Mom, I'll be here a lot. I mean…I wouldn't just abandon you. Dad wouldn't want that, either."

Lucy smiled. "Ricky, I know you'll be around. You're my baby. And don't worry, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I thought for sure you'd cry." Rick was only half joking.

"I still might! But you're doing what you have to do."

Rick rose from the table and went to his mother. He knelt at her side and hugged her. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, Little Ricky."

Chapter 4

It was a crisp September night , the first chill of the fall made its presence known. There was a line of people wrapped around the block, waiting to get into Rhythm. Inside, the club was decorated in rich blue and green hues, an expansive dance floor and a large stage for singers and bands to provide live music.

Lucy was inside, alone except for bustling waiters and bartenders getting ready for opening night. She wandered over to a wall covered with photos. Her heart swelled to see pictures of Ricky leading his orchestra, singing, dancing and beating his conga drum. She saw portraits of him done in Hollywood to promote his films. She saw pictures of him dancing with her, pictures of him holding Little Ricky and performing with him. In the center of this great wall was an inscription, telling Enrique's story, paying homage to him.

A rush of noise filled the room as people excitedly entered.

"Lucy, come on, let's sit! The headwaiter just told me as soon as they're at capacity, Ricky will be out to open the club!" Ethel pulled Lucy through the club; Lucy remembered how Marian had pulled her across the same floor more than 30 years before.

After what seemed like an eternity, a man in a white suit walked onto the stage in front of a group of musicians Rick had auditioned and rehearsed with in the months prior to the opening.

"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the grand opening night of Rhythm! It is my great pleasure to introduce you to the owner, the talented Enrique Ricardo, Jr.!" The man backed offstage.

Lucy felt that she was seeing a ghost as a tall, handsome man with raven black hair, dark eyes and tanned skin stepped onstage in a black tuxedo. The crowd applauded and cheered loudly.

"Thank you, ladies and gentleman. But you can call me Rick." He flashed a smile. "We have a number of very talented musicians here tonight, I hope you'll all enjoy the music and dance. Before we get to that, though…" Rick reached behind him and brought forth a tall conga drum; his father's. "Since this is our opening night, I want to start with my father's signature number. I love you, Dad, this is for you."

Rick looked out at the audience and locked eyes with his mother in a blue dress and smiling at him with striking blue eyes. As he picked up his father's drum, he blew her a kiss and began Babalu.


End file.
